


Half-Alive | OIKAWA TOORU | Soulmate AU

by lunasparker



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Haikyuu!! AU Week, Heavy Angst, Kissing in the Rain, Love Stories, Love Triangles, Romantic Soulmates, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-25
Updated: 2021-01-25
Packaged: 2021-03-18 03:21:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28985520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lunasparker/pseuds/lunasparker
Summary: SOULMATE AU that affects 10% of the population where when Person A lies, it appears on Person B's left wrist and when Person B lies, it appears on Person A's right wrist.Water helps to wash away the ink. After all, imagine what society would say if they saw how many lies your soulmate told?[OIKAWA TOORU X FEM!READER - SOULMATE AU]
Relationships: Oikawa Tooru/Reader, Semi Eita/Reader
Kudos: 35





	Half-Alive | OIKAWA TOORU | Soulmate AU

**Author's Note:**

> Soulmates are a misleading phenomena. A millennia of transparent relations between gods and humans and now this... thing was thinning out the universe little by little with the union of creation. They teach you to hug your secrets close to your heart, to close yourself off as you wait for the one. But along the way, the truths of the universe get lost in your mind as you unravel your future; after all, your destiny is your own and you won't let it tumble out of your control.
> 
> You have a soulmate. Your parents saw ink washing up on the thin skin of your forearms, blinking back with sinking stomachs and more. You're fed with lies and truths and false promises and your world was flipped upside down the moment you saw the marks. Eighteen years later, you're half-alive at the mercy of a stranger, wandering in your lonesome looking for someone you don't know if you want to look for in the first place.
> 
> Just when you are tempted to chop your arm off to get rid of the fantasia rotting your brain, he walks into your life. And now you wonder...

MIYAGI PREFECTURE WAS DROWNING in gleaming sunshine and shrieks of childish laughter that blissful morning.

The chaos of spring was illuminated by the unwinding of tight tulip buds hugging each other on the nearby fields, the blink of warm sunlight kissing skin as humans bathed under the fall of burning angels. It was the scent of fresh lemongrass and the pools of sakura blossoms blessing the roots of every tree nearby that carved out the passageway for spring to wade through following a tough winter. Denuded trees stripped of leaves coupled the wending river outside the classroom window, vivid green sprouting from the earth along the winding banks.

Eating a sandwich by the classroom window was you, [Y/N] [L/N], eyes lingering on the glisten of the water beneath the morning sun. Out of habit, your hand tugs at the long sleeves of your alabaster shirt, pulling it down as anxiety grates your thoughts.

It was a habit developed across eighteen years of living. A way to conceal your secret. A secret that eats away at you every single day.

Hidden beneath the thin cotton, which was thankfully translucent, was your secret, your burden, their lies. Looking down at the window ledge, a deep sigh leaves your rattled lungs.

You don't even want to check it. Scratch that. You know you can't check it. The sound of low voices and faint whispers and average conversations all seem to circulate your cranium, stretching thin across the spring air as people talk all around you. Of course they would talk, it's lunch. But their presence leaves you on edge, like you stand on the teeter of exposure at all times, legs shaking on the cliff of truth and lies, the sea of your soulmate awaits while you stare society in the face.

Your eyes faintly linger on your forearm, the area around your wrist, where marked in ink, were lies. It's rather humorous to be cursed like this. The gods preach their power under the guise of heavenly guidance but subject their own creation to the incessant flaws of themselves. Lies are spat from throaty cries and Cain did lie to God about Abel, ebony dripping between teeth. The truth is not the opposite of a lie; you have determined that much. Rather, prickling the tongue of many, was this blurred line that people slipped between. Truth in lies and lies in truth.

And then they are imprinted on your skin, tracing veins of ichor and handwritten in the star syrup signature of a deity, signing off the imperfect nature of humanity.

Lucky you. You're part of the small world where this is a reality. Where the gods tie love to the thing they tolerate the least: lies.

"Did you do the chemistry homework?" Someone's voice pierces your daydreaming and you jolt your head upwards, turning to the sound of the voice.

Semi Eita stands idly next to you, sharply-shaped eyes lingering solemnly on you. His hair was thick and messy ash blonde, darkness tinging the tips. Per usual, he was in his volleyball kit, which you rarely ever saw him out of. He'd gotten into Shiratorizawa on a sports scholarship so it was no surprise that he was closely linked to his favourite sport.

You chew on your lips, slowly lowering your hand in an attempt to be natural, "What do you think?"

"That's a no, huh," He purses his lips, a thin grin splits across his cheek. You can't help but to smile back, knowing that what hung on his face was more often than not a scowl and seeing him wearing anything other than that was a miracle.

(He looks pretty when he smiles.)

(He always looks pretty.)

He pulls out some paper from his school bag, setting it on your desk, "You have five minutes. Oh, Tendou is looking for you again."

"When is he not?" You chuckle lightly, "We have Chem after lunch so I'll copy you then."

And the conversation dies out like the final embers of a flame dwindling to a halt. You hear his goodbyes and leave the classroom, the memoir of your spine being laced with a heaviness you cannot contrive. Glaucous clouds gleam amongst the wisps of a morning sky as you hold yourself in a tsunami of fractured awareness.

The corridors narrow when you feel your head being lost in a tornado, catching your breath as you urge to fold back your shirt's sleeve gnaws at your mind. Curiosity is undeniable in such a tormenting universe, especially for someone like you who is struck with the restoration of lies embedded in hues of black on your skin. A slave to a god; the servitude to something grander does not disillusion you like others who pour out gold hearts for nickel and dime. The turmoil of grappling with being branded as a creation feels like a noose. The rope grazes ivory skin, rough and sudden and free will is crumpled up and grinded into the ground with the boot of a God, as if it was those autumn leaves children would jump on to hear the crunchy sound.

Tendou is exactly where you expect him to be, sitting on the ledge dangerously of an unused corridor tucked away towards the outer buildings. Despite his long, lanky legs dangling off the edge, a precarious gaze is tucked away in his eyes, making them glisten with sorrow.

You grimace, pushing your sleeves back to your elbow and looking down at your left wrist, the words of ebony disorienting your vision.

"Your soulmate must be a pathological liar," He grins; it's his usual grin, the one where his lips fly high and it evokes such an uncanny expression that you have stapled it an icon of his. You've become a Tendou analytic now given all the time you seem to spend with him.

You huff an annoyed sigh, joining him, feeling his stare burning into your wrist, "I have to wash my arms every hour for this shit."

The words are dull under the placid sunlight and you hold your wrist out with a sigh, showing it more clearly to Tendou.

The newest one was _"I don't have a soulmate."_

Above it were rows of other countless lies from that day alone, ranging from the typical "I love it!" to "I'm not free on Saturday."

You tilt your wrist away, lips wobbly, "I don't have a soulmate, huh. What a bold lie, you motherfucker."

Tendou averts his gaze, knowing that staring any longer would let self-consciousness worm itself way into your heart. He looks out into the sunrise, large, downturned eyes fixed on the melting clouds. It gave him a sleepy-looking expression that you didn't mind. You know on his left wrist are lies ebbed from the tongue of his own soulmate.

"I wonder what the context was," He murmurs with a sigh and then holds his arm out, fingers spreading as if ready to hold the burning sun.

You shrug it off, having grown used to the words that appear on your wrist, "I'm... I'm gonna go wash it off now. I have Sports first thing so..."

Tendou understands. After all, he faces the same predicament himself. Yet, the two of you handle it wildly differently.

He doesn't hide the lies on his wrist. He wears as many short-sleeved shirts as he can, breaking school dress code with a white polo shirt pairing his uniform. But you suppose it's all about perception. Wasn't that why you rinse the sins from your skin?

Growing up, ink on a child's forearm would make any person blink in ecstasy, holding back swells of tears and the premise of such a "gift". They feed you lies about how you're immortalised, that hues of black tattooed on the Human Creation are a remedy to cure a god's flaws. Whispers circle heavens as one traces the lies imprinted, thoughts forming and ripping apart at the mercy of a puppeteer playing with its puppets.

You're a puppet.

And in the girls' bathroom on the first floor, you let the droplets of water from the running tap slip down your wrist like tears on your cheek.

_"I'm a puppet."_


End file.
